Alix was angry. So angry, in fact, that she was a little frightened that she might be targeted again to become an akuma. And ironically, it was the whole akuma situation that left her in such a mood.

She always thought of herself as tough, smart, and independent. She always tried to show people how capable she was. How unworried she was about the problems around her. How confident and unshakable she was.

But she couldn't.

She saw how the akuma affected the victims. She wasn't blind to what they went through after the butterfly was cleansed. She saw her brother bury himself in his work, so much that he wouldn't even give her a passing hello anymore. She saw how Ivan, quiet at the best of times, sat alone on the other side of the room and stared off into space sometimes. How he'd jump out of his daydreams and how his doodles changed to jagged hulking beasts. How Ivan, who liked dark stuff that would make other people look away, had to turn away from his own drawings in the margins of his notebook; how he'd waste paper and turn the page despite half of it being unused.

She even noticed how Nino had stopped bringing his bubble wand to school completely, how Alya had scratched at the edge of the mask on a picture of Ladybug, snapping the magazine shut violently and tossing it in the trash. They were the subtle ones.

And of course she noticed the churning in her gut when she looked at her own classmates, when she looked at Chat Noir.

She couldn't pretend that she was strong.

Because she wasn't. She couldn't resist watching the news recounting her time as an akuma. She couldn't resist Hawk Moth's deal. She couldn't look at her friends without seeing them freezing like statues and fading from reality all over again.

She closed her eyes and shook her head roughly, gritting her teeth and scratching her pencil into the paper with too much force, breaking the tip. Get a grip, she thought, it's been months. No one even remembers what you did. She turned her head to look at the ornamental pocket watch her father had given her for her birthday, laid peacefully on a shelf. Out of the way and easily overlooked. But to her it shone like a beacon, a glittering mirror through which she saw every clip of that news story all over again.

Alix shivered. Mirrors. I don't know how Juleka does it. She chewed on the end of her pencil, leaning back in her chair. It probably helps that she was non-lethal.

With a short growl, Alix stopped herself from continuing that thought to exactly how lethal she had been, and stood, grabbing her bag stiffly and heading to school.

She was early, she knew, but that was for the best. She didn't mind them before, but recently crowds had started bothering her. Too many people, too close. Brushing up against her, bumping into her. All I needed was a touch. She'd find herself instinctively flinching away from casual touches, and berating herself for it.

So it was better if no one was around. Better. Quickly, before many more people arrived, she stole to the classroom. She'd be waiting a long time there, but better there than in the courtyard.

To her surprise, there was already someone else there. "Nathanaël?"

He lifted his head, dark bags under his eyes as he gazed at her. "Oh. Hey, Alix."

Alix noticed – she noticed these things – Nathanaël had pushed his sketchbook and pencils to the side, and the page was blank save for deep lines going everywhere, not quite fully erased. Little flecks of the eraser shavings were scattered all across his desk and the floor around him, and his eraser was black and small. She knew exactly what was bothering him.

Nathanaël followed her gaze and snatched the sketchbook back to him, picking up his pencil dutifully and beginning a new sketch. Or a new attempt at a sketch. Alix sighed, walking to her desk with only a casual "good morning".

She sank into her seat and buried her head in her arms, hoping that Nathanaël would interpret it as just tiredness. She tried so hard, persisted so long, retained her image. She was Alix Kubdel. Renowned tomboy. She'd kick anyone's butt who tried to even imply she was weak. So why can't I even look people in the eyes anymore?

"Nathanaël?" She asked quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She didn't even know Nathanaël that well. She liked his art, but she didn't have much in common with him. They were acquaintances at best. Of all people to talk to. Of all places to do it.

But Alix wasn't strong. She couldn't take it. And watching as everyone else was subtly torn apart, all trying to hide what hurt them… because everyone around them were so used to everything that once the clouds cleared they just went about their day without a second thought. She couldn't sit back and watch anymore. She couldn't be a part of it anymore. And who am I going to talk to? Kim? Yeah, right. She curled her fingers into fists, realizing that she was alone. She had friends, but none that she actually talked to. They were more rivals than anything. She competed with Kim, roughhoused with Ivan, but she didn't really talk to anyone at all.

"Yeah?" His soft voice was calculated and soothing.

"Do you think about it?"

Her words weren't truly a question. She already saw that his akumatizaton bothered him. "About what?"

"Timebreaker. Evillustrator. The others. Do you see them?"

Nathanaël was quiet for a long time. Alix was afraid someone else would come in and the moment would be over, or that he just didn't want to answer her. "Always," he muttered. "I can't draw anymore."

"Nothing's fun anymore," Alix said. "Even teasing Kim is just…" She covered her face, though from where she sat she couldn't see Nathanaël anyway. "He still tries to goad me on but I just don't care anymore. It's not the same after…"

"After what we did."

"I killed him."

"I tried to kill people. Only Chat Noir and Ladybug stopped me."

Alix crumpled. Everything sucks. Every one of us have this, in one form or another. But we keep going through our lives like nothing changed. Like just because we don't remember that means we don't know.

"It's not even that I can't draw," Nathanaël said. "I just don't enjoy it like I used to. Sometimes trying makes me sick, other times it's just… boring. Or I can't think of any ideas, or…"

"I know. It's the same for me. I can't roller-blade. It isn't fun anymore."

"Do you think we can ever go back to normal?"

The question sent an uncomfortable shiver down Alix's spine. As much as she hated what she was feeling, hated herself, the one thing she never did was wish to go "back" in anything. The thought made her want to throw up. "No," she said curtly. "I don't want to go back."

"I – oh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it's just… that's what it was to start with."

"I understand."

"But… no, I don't think we're just going to get our old lives back. It's not just going to leave. It hasn't yet, even after the butterfl-"

The door opened. Alix didn't even notice who walked in. It didn't matter. Neither Alix nor Nathanaël spoke again that day.

The following week passed in monotony. Days blurred together, peppered by the little things. A hesitation when someone with too much perfume walks by, a small "thank you" from a mouth not known for kind words, a lingering stare at a couple holding hands. Alix noticed things, but she didn't note them. She didn't take any action, or put any special effort into remembering them.

But she did spare special attention to Nathanaël. She wanted to talk to him again, to say anything, even if he didn't respond, or if he told his story in parallel, without either of them really commenting. In fact, that might be for the best. She watched as he agonized over his sketchbook, tearing up paper with hundreds of marks and erasures rending it useless for further art and still blank. She watched him hesitate sometimes, when he moved to pick up his pencil to take notes in class. He'd stare at it like it was something foreign to him, something alien that hadn't ever been seen before on Earth.

One day, after everyone else had filed out of the classroom to find lunch, Alix found herself alone with him once more. She approached him. "Hey," she said.

"Hey." He looked up, Alix looked away quickly, passing it off by closing her eyes and leaning back on the desk.

"Want to eat lunch together?"

"Sure."

The two moved sluggishly through the Parisian streets, under the burning sun. After a few minutes, they just secreted away to a small, unknown eatery. Alix didn't really care what they ate, and she doubted Nathanaël cared all that much either.

It would do.

They walked, decided on a place, and sat in perfect silence. The first time either of them spoke was to order their food, and then they were quiet for many minutes more.

"I'm sorry," Alix said. "You probably don't want to talk about then."

Their previous conversation must have lingered with him as well, since he didn't question what she was talking about. "No, it's fine. It's a little bit of a relief, actually." Alix glanced up from the table, her eyes taking in the curve of his lips, the lines of his nose, and the contours of his cheeks. "No one ever talks about it."

"No. They don't."

Nathanaël shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his arms. "What bothers you about it?"

Like she had been waiting for that question her entire life, every wall Alix had built – was trying so desperately to repair – broke. She just started talking and didn't stop. She talked about the pocket watch, not caring how open she was about her sentimentality. She talked about how angry she was, both when the watch broke and at that very moment. She talked about how shocked she was when she went home that day, so naïve, and watched the news, wondering how "cool" her powers were. How she cried when she realized she killed most of her friends, never mind that they still went to school with the same smiles and jokes as usual. She talked about how hard she tried to ignore it, to convince herself that it didn't matter, that everything turned out well in the end and no one got hurt.

But they did. And fixing something didn't mean it was never broken. She talked about how the pocket watch sat on a shelf in her room. How even the muted shine through the layer of dust only brought images of it broken on the ground.

She talked about the little things she noticed. In herself – how she couldn't look at people directly, had trouble talking to them sometimes – and then in everyone else.

"Everyone just ignores it and tries to go back to their lives," she spat. "They try to go back but we can't go back. It doesn't work like that."

She talked, and Nathanaël listened. He nodded quietly and never interrupted. He glanced, surprised, at her when she mentioned everything she saw he was doing differently, but still didn't speak.

Finally – Alix figured lunch time had to be nearing its end – she stopped talking. She had nothing more to say. Still, Nathanaël said nothing. He just reached out a hand, not quite looking at her but somehow making her feel like he was staring her down regardless.

Alix raised a hand, stretched it out, hesitated, and took his.

He squeezed her hand gently, and whispered to her. "It's okay."

Alix yanked her hand back and scrubbed at her eyes. She wasn't crying, she didn't cry, but she was dangerously close. "It's not."

"I meant," Nathanaël said, "it's okay to feel that way. To think about it. To talk about it."

Alix laughed, painfully and awkwardly. Of all people… I choose the best one. She sniffed quietly and wiped one last time at her eyes. And then she smiled at him. And he smiled back.

The next day, Alix and Nathanaël ate together again. They chose a small café, and they browsed the collection of treats before ordering. "What are you going to get?" He asked her.

She told him.

She didn't expect to go up to the counter and accidentally meet eyes with the cashier, or how the cool green of his irises reminded her of Chat Noir and made her voice die in her throat. She especially didn't expect Nathanaël to order for her.

That struck her as embarrassing, but the cashier didn't say anything, and no one else in the café seemed to notice, and Nathanaël himself was already halfway to an empty table. She placed her money on the counter, letting the cashier retrieve it himself so that he didn't accidentally touch her hand, and let out a breath of relief when she got her food and sat at the table with Nathanaël. "Thank you," she said, looking at her drink instead of him.

With her peripheral vision, she saw him shrug.

After a brief silence, Nathanaël took his turn to speak. "I drew Marinette a lot. Before Evillustrator." Alix nodded and kept quiet, like he had done for her. "Her and Adrien. They were good models, you know, are good models. Marinette is so pretty, and she has such a nice smile. And of course she's always dressing on point. Adrien's the same. I like how when he smiles, like really smiles, one side of his mouth goes up just a little bit more than the other. How Marinette will throw her whole body into pretty much everything she does. Her laugh, her smile… I loved drawing them, but then I ended up as Evillustrator and I can't do it anymore." He closed his eyes. "It's not the same as everything else, either. Marinette specifically, I can't draw. It just… makes my stomach turn over and I feel like I don't deserve to draw her and I remember what I did to her – trying to drown her and Chat. I thought maybe I'd start those Ladybug comics instead, so I had another focus, but I couldn't draw Chat, and after a while I couldn't even draw Ladybug anymore. I tried to kill them, too. I… again, I felt like I didn't deserve to draw them, and it made me nauseous to even try. And then nothing I drew felt good, and then I started hating it, and I just want to enjoy it again."

Nathanaël kept talking, and Alix listened attentively. She heard him when he told her about his desperate struggle to find anyone, anything, that he could draw. How even pencils and pens had started to shake him a little, and how he was falling behind in school because he was too slow taking notes. She heard him tell her about how he can't face Marinette, not even because of what she might say, but because that meant looking at a reminder of what he did and almost did. She heard him talk about his constant fear that someone would bring up his crush again and he'd be forced to face her, or the hundreds of other scenarios he's gotten in his head that he knows aren't likely but still freak him out. She heard him when he stumbled through the story of how, immediately after the incident, his brother not only brought up Evillustrator, but criticized him, calling him names and making fun of his motivation and actions (Alix was appalled when he explained that he criticized Evillustrator not for trying to hurt people, but for being too soft. "That's not an interesting villain", Nathanaël had said.). She heard him when he told her about his insecurities and his ponderings on how much of his actions were himself and not Hawk Moth, taking note of the moment on tape where he appeared to be in pain and arguing against some invisible force (that struck a nerve in Alix, but she didn't show him how it affected her). And she heard him when he talked about his late-night marathons of the news program, running on repeat as he watched it over and over and over. How he couldn't bring himself to delete it or stop watching it.

When he was done, he took a deep breath. Alix hesitated, and reached a hand out across the table. Nathanaël smiled and slowly reached forward. Alix felt her fingers twitch a little, but she let him take her hand. She smiled at him and whispered to him. "It's okay."

He smiled and let out a strained chuckle. Alix raised her gaze just enough to see that he wasn't crying. And even without looking him in the eye, she didn't need words to know how much he appreciated her saying that. His shoulders relaxed, his chin lifted up a little, his hands stilled. Subtle things.

She let go of his hand.

They finished eating in silence and made their way back to school, separating without another word to go to their respective desks. They sat and shared a secret glance. Alix, for just a moment, met his eyes, but though the tension in her chest made it hard to breathe and her throat felt swollen and useless, she smiled.

The teacher went a little fast that day, but Alix still managed, between notes, to look around and notice little things. Max's backpack was thinner than usual. The crossed-bones pin that Ivan had given Mylène found its way onto her bag instead of on her head. A soft thump as Juleka put her hand on her desk, rather than the click of metal.

The way a boy in the back cradled his head in his arms, dragged his hands down his face, and picked up his pencil, scribbling notes furiously for only a few seconds before letting the pencil fall from his hand and burying his head back into his arms. Alix moved her attention back to her own desk, and then to the board, and continued working.

After the bell rang, she lingered, taking her time to put away her things. And then she approached Nathanaël. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Can I have your phone number?"

Nathanaël's mouth opened slightly, closed, and opened again. "Sure."

Alix took out her phone and opened a new contact, handing it to him. When he handed it back, she thanked him and walked away.

At home that afternoon, Alix took out her notebook again, flipped to that day's notes, and took a picture. She sent it to Nathanaël and went about her business without a second thought.

The thing about Nathanaël, Alix suspected at least, was that she didn't need to explain herself to him. She didn't need to tell him that she wasn't going to take his notes for him, that it was just because she noticed he was having trouble and wanted to help. He understood that on days when he could keep up without a problem – most days – she wouldn't do that. She wasn't his note-taker like Sabrina was for Chloé. She was just his friend who saw him needing help.

She also understood that the same thing applied to what Nathanaël had done in the café. He didn't take over for her when she lost her words. He watched in the background and came up to help when she needed him and left when she didn't. He didn't interfere until she couldn't do it herself, and she had the suspicion that he knew perfectly well that she wouldn't have it any other way.

She didn't need Nathanaël standing up for her. She was Alix Kubdel. She was confident and strong and sometimes she was brave enough to accept a little help. But she was still Alix, and she didn't rely on anyone. That didn't mean she couldn't have a friend.

Her phone vibrated.

N – Thank you.

She smiled and returned to her own work.

And as the days went on, Alix was pleased to find that her assessment of Nathanaël ended up ringing true. He took his own notes during the next day, and the day after that, and only a few weeks later when he was having trouble again – for a few days this time, but Alix didn't mind – she sent him her notes so he wouldn't fall behind. Likewise, whenever they went out together (eating lunch together, after a few times following the two where they talked about their akuma, became implicit), he never just ordered for them both. Sometimes, she ordered for him, because she knew he was shy and she saw how he held himself when he talked to the people behind the counter. But every once in a while, when she'd freeze or lose her voice or if she ducked her head and muttered and cursed herself for not keeping her voice steady, he'd jump in and casually tell the person what she wanted. Eventually, he didn't even need to ask her beforehand.

And he always backed out then, too. He let her pay and let her handle everything else since she didn't need to talk or look at anyone to do it. After a while, it stopped being embarrassing. She stopped worrying if people would see her and question why she needed Nathanaël to do something as simple as order a cup of coffee. It was just how they worked, and that was as much – to her – a part of being Alix as anything else.

It was winter when she and Nathanaël were first asked if they were dating. Despite having joked about the topic in the several months they had been growing closer, it still took Alix by surprise.

As a joke – or it started as a joke – Alix had been drawing. Nathanaël still had trouble sometimes, but he hadn't given up his old passion completely. That was what had inspired her. Despite his struggling, he kept trying, kept improving, and now he would pick up his sketchbook and doodle more often than not. He still didn't draw Marinette or Chat or Ladybug or even Adrien. Alix didn't see him drawing any people at all, actually. But he started with little things, a water bottle, someone's backpack, and moved on to landscapes. Alix loved how he smiled when he drew landscapes. She wanted that. So she jokingly started drawing herself, vicariously living through his passion instead of her own.

She enjoyed it. But she knew it was more because it was something she did with her best friend than because she liked drawing.

That was why, after a long, nauseating look at her roller skates, she invited Nathanaël to the ice skating rink.

The logic was sound to her, at first. It's like roller skating, but not quite the same. Maybe it would be easier. Maybe she could do it. Maybe she'd like it. She remembered liking the ice rink when she was little.

But when she got there and was handed the skates, she had trouble picking them up off the counter. She reached but couldn't bring herself to touch them. Nathanaël waited patiently, and after another moment, he took the skates and carried them as well as his own pair to a nearby bench. "We don't have to do this," he said. His voice was controlled and careful, and he bit his lip.

"It's fine," Alix said. She took a deep breath and, with only another second's hesitation, picked up one of the skates. "I want to."

Nathanaël's hands hovered for a moment over his chest before he let them drop. She knew what he wanted but wouldn't tell her. Don't push yourself too hard. Alix liked to push herself. Or at least, she used to. She wasn't sure if she knew how hard was too hard anymore, but she was determined to find out. Determined and stubborn to the end.

So she tied on her skates, her breath shaky but her mind blank, and stood.

She laughed when Nathanaël stumbled, unable to keep his balance. "Here," she said, holding out a hand.

He took it, and she guided him to the door to the ice, letting him use her for balance.

Stepping onto the slick ice, she moved to let him hold onto the wall, and she did as well, just behind him. The ice skates felt strange on her feet, like she'd never worn them before, and the loss of control from her first little pitch forward made her yelp. She looked down, seeing white and blue instead of black and green, and let herself project the old skates on top of the new ones. They were the same, but different. And Alix felt that maybe she could handle this.

Still, unlike before Timebreaker, she didn't really want to go fast.

Getting control over her movement was the tricky part. She remembered enjoying how she'd slide forward before, with such little effort. Then, it was fun, but at that moment she found it terrifying. So she kept one hand on the wall to slow or stop her if she needed.

And it was also so she could help Nathanaël without being toppled over herself. She laughed, but always caught him when he'd stumble, using her own hand on the wall for support so he didn't take her with him. He'd laugh in turn and grin bashfully. After a few circuits around the rink, Alix realized that he was trying to skate and turn back to watch her at the same time, so she dared letting go and speeding up to slide around him, rejoining the wall in front of him. She kept her same pace after that, but Nathanaël didn't fall as much. Which is good. I'd have a harder time catching him from here.

They skated for a long time, both of them laughing and stumbling, even Alix a few times. She gradually got more comfortable with the blades on her feet, and she and Nathanaël, to support each other, were nearly always clinging to each other in some way. Alix didn't think she'd touched anyone so much since Timebreaker, maybe collectively, but it didn't send her gut spinning and it didn't scare her. The cool ice sent goosebumps along her arms and helped her clear her head.

"Oh, hey Nath! Hey Alix!" Alix jumped when Rose skated up to them, smiling carefree and bubbly like she liked to do. Alix had to lean on the wall for support when she spun her head around and accidentally locked eyes with the other girl.

And she saw the look of shock and betrayal that was frozen on Rose's face when she was slowly fading from reality.

Alix quickly looked away.

Juleka skated up quietly, taking Rose's hand. Rose didn't seem to notice how Alix turned away. "What are you guys doing here? Are you on a date, too?"

The question was the last thing Alix really cared about, though she glanced over in surprise, seeing Rose's lips curling up into a pleasant smile. The same, but different. She let the image of the startled gasp, the mouth locked open, overlap the dainty lips set in a faint crescent. It was easier. Just a little.

Nathanaël laughed awkwardly. "Uh, no, Rose. We're just here to hang out."

Rose turned slightly towards Nathanaël. "Oh, I'm sorry. You two have been spending so much time together recently, I just thought maybe there was something going on."

"No, we're just friends."

Alix looked up at Nathanaël, managing to meet his gaze for a moment. "Best friends." She amended.

He laughed. "Yeah, best friends."

All four of them skated together for a while. By then, Nathanaël wasn't falling nearly at all and Alix was beginning to even enjoy the feeling of being on the ice. The introduction of Rose and Juleka was an awkward but not unwelcome one. She and Nathanaël didn't touch as much, but that was about the only change.

Eventually, she and Nathanaël told Rose and Juleka that they were leaving. They were both tired, having been there for several hours, and then they said goodbye to each other and went to their respective homes. She laid down, content, her feet sore, and smiled. And then she got a text from Nathanaël.

N – Did you have fun? Sorry that Rose and Juleka happened to show up.
A – It's fine. I didn't mind. But yeah, I had a lot of fun.
N – Good.
A – I think I like ice skating.
N – I like ice skating with you.

Alix felt an uncomfortable heat in her chest when she read his text, for the very first time doubting what was between herself and him. Her mind went to Rose's question. We're we on a date?

Logically – Alix prided herself on thinking about things logically, even if she did sometimes ignore it for fun – she knew he only meant that he liked skating the same way she liked drawing. It was something she could do with her best friend and it made him happy so she was happy too. But there was that saying, "a guy and girl can't be just friends".

The thought left her gut twisting like a snake trying to burst from her body.

But, luckily, the next morning, all of those thoughts were gone. Nathanaël was himself, Alix was herself, and they were best friends. She didn't think about it again until nearly a month later.

They had gone ice skating together a couple times after that, as Alix still didn't feel quite ready to try by herself, but Nathanaël surprised her one day by coming up to her after school looking nervous. Her defenses immediately shot up, and she looked around for any indication of someone who might have said something or picked on him.

"Hey, Alix?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I draw you?"

Alix blinked at him. "Of course." She smiled, and furrowed her brow, forcing herself to meet his eyes and ask the silent question, Are you ready to?

"Thank you." He breathed out a sigh. "I want to… I want to try drawing people again."

"I get it. Did you want me to model, or just asking permission?"

"If you could come over? You don't have to model, per se. I just want…"

To have his best friend around, the unspoken words were. "Of course. I can come over today, if you want."

"That'd be perfect."

The second time they were asked if they were dating was when she arrived at Nathanaël's house. She wasn't supposed to hear it – she didn't think so, anyway – but after her introduction to his family (she forced herself to meet each of their eyes, something she had been slowly getting better at), they talked to her for a short time. Nathanaël's mother was the one who asked the question. "So, are you two dating?"

She waggled her eyebrows teasingly, laughing when Nathanaël calmly explained that they weren't

Nathanaël's brother muttered under his breath, and no one said anything, but Alix caught his words. "As if Nath could get a girlfriend." He said something else as well, quieter but with more venom. Alix couldn't interpret what he said, but it was clear it was meant to be mean.

That didn't sit well with her, but no one said anything so she didn't either. She just followed Nathanaël to his room, taking a seat on his bed while he sat on a stool situated in front of a large easel. He ignored the large pad of blank paper standing on the easel, and just pulled out his sketchbook instead, silently beginning to draw.

Alix sat quietly, letting him work and watching him work. He was focused, intent, but his jaw would sometimes tighten and he'd close his eyes and take a deep breath before moving his pencil again.

His mother's casual, teasing question dug under her skin. She remembered Rose asking if they were on a date at the ice rink and she wondered how many other people just assumed they were dating in passing. The thought made her antsy, and she shifted restlessly for a good ten minutes before Nathanaël finally asked what she was thinking about.

Alix hesitated. She raised herself up on her arms slowly. "Well… you know how we've been friends for a while."

"Best friends." He amended.

"Best friends," she said. "I was wondering if you've ever thought of… anything more?"

Nathanaël put down his pencil and stared at her dumbly. "Uh, no?"

Alix let out a huge sigh, collapsing on the bed with a laugh. "Thank god. Me neither."

Nathanaël laughed then, as well. "God, Alix, is this about what my mom said?"

"Rose thought the same thing. I was just curious."

"You scared me. I thought you liked me that way or something."

Alix scoffed. "Sorry, you're strictly best friend material for me."

Nathanaël rolled his eyes, smirking. "Thank god for that."

She rolled over to stare at the ceiling as he went back to his drawing. "Honestly, though, I was more just wondering if it bothered you."

"Not at all. Does it bother you?"

"A little," she said. "It's weird. Like, I would never have even considered it but people around us just assume it."

He chuckled. "I suppose."

She shook her head. "Well, I'm glad we had that conversation. We won't have to suffer through dumb shenanigans like the quixotic quartet."

"The quixotic quartet?"

"Those dumb kids that sit in front of you. Past Ivan."

Nathanaël laughed loudly, stopping his drawing for the sake of it. "I certainly hope not. That's a situation that belongs in some Shakespearean comedy."

"Agreed. Adrien would agree too, probably. He'd revel in it."

"Freaking thespian."

Alix took her turn to laugh.

They talked like that for a while more, and after a few minutes, Nathanaël showed her his drawing. It was amazing, just like the rest of his work, though it was just a portrait of her. He put in fine detail in the shading and Alix hugged him, proud of him. "It's wonderful."

"Thank you. It was… difficult. It's still hard, but it got easier as I worked. I actually kind of had fun towards the end."

"That's what matters."

"Yeah." Nathanaël carefully tore the page from his sketchbook. "Here."

"You want me to have it?"

"Why not?"

Alix took the paper, looking at it carefully and biting her lip. When she looked up again, she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

She stood, walking over to a wall of Nathanaël's room that had a large cork board on it. Taking a couple of the unused pins, she stuck the sketch to the board. When she turned back, Nathanaël was looking at her oddly, so she explained herself. "You can do it. I want that to stay right there and I want you to look at it when you feel like you can't draw people again." She pointed to the drawing. "Proof that you're strong enough."

Nathanaël doubled over in giggles. "You're a dork."

"You're a bigger one."

"Thank you."

She knew she didn't need to answer. She just smiled and patted him on the shoulder. It would do.